


Quarantine

by Aethelflaed



Series: ILL OMENS: The Quarantine Fics [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Banter, Crack, Fluff, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Quarantined Together, Short & Sweet, Teasing, Technically a PSA, social distancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:00:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23237332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aethelflaed/pseuds/Aethelflaed
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley are quarantined at the bookshop! Wait...why?--Created as a bit of a joke. Is Aziraphale providing a PSA on social distancing? Or is that just how he flirts? You decide!
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: ILL OMENS: The Quarantine Fics [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1707424
Comments: 51
Kudos: 178





	Quarantine

**Author's Note:**

> A post on Tumblr said the next round of AO3 fics would all be about "oh my god they were in quarantine together!" What could I do but oblige?

“Wait,” said Crowley, shuffling his legs around to sit more comfortably on the arm of the sofa. “Did I miss something? Why am I stuck _here_?”

“Well.” Aziraphale set the wine glasses down on the table with a _clink_. “You are more than welcome to wait out the quarantine in your own flat, if you prefer. I’m sure your wine selection is just as satisfactory as mine.”

(This, of course, was a lie. Aziraphale knew _perfectly well_ that he had the superior wine cellar; he had gone to great effort to ensure that was true.)

“No, I mean, why are we under quarantine at all?” Crowley tossed his head; he was trying to grow his hair out, but it wasn’t quite long enough for a good dramatic toss yet. “It’s not like either of us can get sick.”

“My dear, just because you don’t show symptoms doesn’t mean you aren’t a carrier.” He poured one glass full of deep red wine, then the other.

“Yeah — no, wait.” Crowley hitched up his leg, balancing even more precariously. “For someone’s sake, Aziraphale, you and I will be _fine_.”

“It’s not about individual safety. The more the virus is spread, the more people will need to be hospitalized.” He corked the bottle and picked up both glasses, walking across the shop to their usual corner. “Even if only ten percent of cases end up needing additional care, if it all strikes at once, the hospitals could be overwhelmed. Not to mention those who _do_ need treatment are likely to be elderly or immunocompromised.”

“Ok, but us staying in your shop for a few days isn’t going to stop this epidemic.” Crowley reached out for the glass, but Aziraphale held it back.

“No, but proper quarantining and social distancing _will_ slow the spread, enough for the hospitals to be able to keep up, we hope. It’s all about flattening the curve.”

“Nh, fine.” Crowley finally managed to get his hand around the glass, and settled back, swirling it, watching the way the wine clung to the sides, then slowly slid back down the bowl. “But that doesn’t change the fact that we’re a _demon_ and an _angel_. Human diseases don’t effect us in any way, so why should we…”

Crowley trailed off as Aziraphale settled onto the sofa, twisting his body and shaking his shoulders as he settled comfortably into the far corner.

“Oh.” Crowley took a sip of his wine, and slowly slid off the sofa’s arm and onto the cushion. “Aren’t we, er, supposed to keep six feet apart?”

Aziraphale crossed his legs and took a drink. “Well, yes, but when two beings are in quarantine together, as long as neither is at-risk for complications, these rules can be ignored. As long as both are willing to, ah, share the risk of infection.”

“So we go down together, huh?” Crowley shifted a little further towards the middle of the couch.

“As long as we follow basic hygiene standards, there’s no reason to assume we will go down at all.”

(The Angel was still looking at his wine, not at the dark shape moving closer, inch by inch.)

“Meaning?” Crowley draped his arm along the back of the sofa.

Aziraphale’s eyes finally flicked over, smug little grin fighting to escape. “Meaning, I hope you’ve washed your hands.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. ;) Please comment if this lightened your day!
> 
> (Note: I've tried to be as accurate as possible, based on what research I've done. The bit about people waiting out the quarantined together is called, I think, isolation cells. Basically, you don't need to keep everyone in separate rooms for the next two weeks.)


End file.
